


Whiskey and Lipstick

by i_owe_you_a_bourbon



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, awkward love triangles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_owe_you_a_bourbon/pseuds/i_owe_you_a_bourbon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That was a hell of an entrance, Carter,” said Thompson. He didn’t seem to have any problems forming words, though he seemed affected enough to have forgotten the fact that his arm was still draped over Sousa’s shoulders. Sousa wasn’t about to remind him. The closeness of Thompson’s body and Peggy’s smile and the liquor in his belly were all making him feel very warm and comfortable, and he wasn’t quite ready for the feeling to end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jack Thompson reclined in his seat like a king on a throne, the agents gathered around him his fawning vassals. Sousa had to admire the way the man could command attention, even if he didn’t always have to appreciate it. For the moment, though, he was content to let Thompson have all the attention and admiration his heart desired (which was a hell of a lot of attention and admiration, in Sousa’s personal opinion). They were here to celebrate Thompson. It was Thompson’s moment. For once, Sousa felt no particular inclination to deflate the man’s ego. It was his own little gift to their new chief.

The clinking of a fork on a glass brought his attention away from Thompson, his gaze turning instead to Agent Marks. The man was getting to his feet slightly drunkenly, placing his hand on Thompson’s shoulder to steady himself. Sousa noticed Thompson shooting that hand a very unimpressed look. “I’d like to make a toast,” Marks declared. “To Jack Thompson. He’s finally made chief, just like he’s always deserved, and we as an agency and as people will flourish under his leadership. He was born to lead, and we were born to follow him. This man is the stuff legends are made of, the kind of hero that songs are written about. To Jack!” he cried, raising his glass in the air. Some of its contents sloshed out, but Marks paid it no heed. 

The other agents cheered appreciatively, but it was more for Marks’s drunkenness than for the new leadership they were going to flourish under. Thompson gave the hand Marks had rested on his shoulder a shove, sending the man staggering sideways. “Sit down,” Thompson said. “You’re embarrassing everyone.” Marks collapsed obediently back into his seat, looking a little disheartened and very drunk.

“He’s right though, Jack,” Agent Boudreau piped up. “You do deserve this. We’re all happy to have you as our chief.”

“Thank you, Boudreau,” said Thompson, raising his glass to his lips. “I look forward to seeing you all flourish.”

The revelries continued, the group of agents growing increasingly louder and more boisterous as the night wore on. Sousa sat back and nursed his drink, not feeling particularly inclined to join in their antics; tonight he was content to simply observe. And his object of observation for the night was Jack Thompson. The man could hold an audience when he wanted, but Sousa noted that as time went by, Thompson seemed less and less inclined to do so. Just as he could command attention, he was equally capable of relinquishing it, letting himself fade into the background. Sousa had never seen that side of Thompson. He always seemed perfectly happy to be the centre of attention – thrived on it, even. And it would have been easy to stay there on this occasion, considering the entire night had been planned explicitly for the purpose of placing the spotlight on him. But as Sousa watched, Thompson slowly let himself drift to the sidelines, his easy smile gracing his face less frequently, his eyes growing ever more distant. That latter fact might have had something to do with the whiskey. Sousa noted Thompson hadn’t exactly been holding back on that.

A particularly enthusiastic and entertaining story about a whale that Agent Heinz was relating drew Sousa’s attention away from Thompson for a moment, and when he turned back he found the new chief’s eyes locked on him. It was a little unsettling. Thompson’s gaze was very intense. And it seemed undeterred by the fact Sousa had noticed it. In Sousa’s experience, most men, when caught staring at another man’s face, would look away. Apparently Thompson hadn’t gotten that memo.

After a few – increasingly awkward – moments of this, Thompson got out of his seat and moved around the table, pulling up a chair beside Sousa and sprawling into it. “You’re awful quiet tonight, Sousa,” he remarked, taking another sip of whiskey. 

Sousa shrugged. “I figured I shouldn’t insult you on your big night.”

“And you’ve got nothing to say if you’re not insulting me?”

“It does take up an inordinate amount of my time.”

Thompson chuckled. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended.”

“Definitely offended. If you start getting flattered it defeats the purpose.”

“The last thing I’d want to do is take the wind out of your sails.”

“Yeah, I know how much you hate stepping on other people.” Sousa glanced around. “Isn’t Peggy supposed to be here?”

“She is here. We just don’t see her because she’s not getting us our coffee or our lunch orders.”

Sousa shot Thompson a disapproving look. “Not funny, Jack.”

Thompson smirked. “A little funny.” He reclined back in his chair. “She had somethin’ to do first – some night out with Martinelli, I think. Said she’d be along later.” His gaze was fixed on Sousa’s face again, watching his every move. “Lookin’ forward to finally gettin’ that drink with her, agent?” he asked.

“Shut up, Jack,” Sousa muttered, taking a sip from his own glass, mostly so he could have a reason not to meet Thompson’s eye. The other man continued to watch him, and Sousa shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Jack Thompson was an ass, and Sousa wanted more than anything to punch him right now. But there was something else – some other feeling that Sousa couldn’t quite put his finger on – that kept twisting its way through his gut whenever Thompson looked at him like that.

“Just a question,” Thompson drawled. His eyes still hadn’t moved from Sousa’s face. “Still got that thing for her, or was rejection enough to extinguish that torch you’ve been carrying?” Sousa’s fingers tightened around his glass so tightly his knuckles turned white. Before he could speak, Thompson slung an arm around his shoulders and gave him a little shake. “Aw, lighten up, Danny. I’m only teasin’.”

“Maybe you should work on your social skills,” Sousa muttered. But Thompson’s arm was still around his shoulders, the heat of the other man’s body pressed against his side, and he was finding it hard to keep hold of his anger.

Thompson didn’t get a chance to reply. At that moment, they noticed a sudden silence descending upon the bar, and they both glanced up, trying to pinpoint its source. It wasn’t hard to spot. There in the doorway stood Peggy Carter. Her hair was curled. Her makeup was done to perfection. Her lips were painted a bold scarlet, and she wore a dress to match. It was the image of elegance and class, but there was something in the cut of the neckline and the way it clung to every curve of her body that could chase all respectable thoughts from a man’s head. Everyone watched in silence as she crossed the room.

“Lookin’ good, Carter!” one of the agents called finally. It was enough to break the awed quiet that had seized the bar, and the other agents were quick to throw out their own appreciative comments.

Peggy ignored them. Her eyes were on Thompson and Sousa, and she angled straight for them, pulling up a chair beside Sousa and seating herself without ever acknowledging the other agents even existed. She smiled. “Hello, boys.”

“You look real nice, Peggy,” Sousa managed to get out. Her appearance and her proximity and the fact that her attention was focused almost exclusively on him made it a little hard to form words. 

“Thank you, Daniel,” she said, flashing him another smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“That was a hell of an entrance, Carter,” said Thompson. He didn’t seem to have any problems forming words, though he seemed affected enough to have forgotten the fact that his arm was still draped over Sousa’s shoulders. Sousa wasn’t about to remind him. The closeness of Thompson’s body and Peggy’s smile and the liquor in his belly were all making him feel very warm and comfortable, and he wasn’t quite ready for the feeling to end. 

Peggy rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how often this happens to me,” she informed Thompson. “It’s absurd, truly. It’s like some men have never seen a woman before.”

“Maybe just not a woman like you,” said Thompson. His voice was low and rough, and it sent a thrill through Sousa’s body. It gave Sousa some satisfaction to know that Peggy was having an effect on Thompson too.

Peggy snorted. “Please, Agent Thompson, flattery doesn’t become you.”

“Chief,” said Thompson.

“Ah, yes,” said Peggy. “That will take some getting used to. But I will endeavor to do so, _Chief_ Thompson.” Sousa could feel Thompson take a particularly deep breath at the sound of this name rolling off Peggy’s tongue, and he raised his eyebrows. Apparently Thompson was more affected that he’d thought. Peggy smiled brightly. “I suppose I owe you congratulations, chief, and a drink.”

“At least one,” said Thompson.

“I don’t think you need any more than that, Jack,” said Sousa. “You’ve already had plenty.”

“I’m going to take advantage of all the free whiskey I can get,” Thompson said. “Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” His arm tightened a little around Sousa, and Sousa leaned into him slightly in response.

Peggy arched an eyebrow at them. “You boys seem comfortable,” she said.

“Like my very own radiator,” said Sousa, patting Thompson’s arm. Thompson chuckled, and Sousa could feel the sound rumbling in his chest. The chief reached his hand up to ruffle Sousa’s hair, then released him, the sudden withdrawal of the arm leaving Sousa feeling cold and a little exposed. But he couldn’t complain. He knew the moment had lasted far longer than it should have been.

“You missed Marks’s toast,” Thompson informed Peggy, throwing back the rest of the liquor in his glass.

“Oh what a shame,” said Peggy. “I hate to miss anything Marks has to say about you. What songs of praise did he have to sing this evening?”

Thompson shrugged. “The stuff legends are made of. The usual.”

“We’ll flourish under his leadership,” Sousa added.

Peggy snorted inelegantly and shook her head. “I need a drink,” she decided. 

For the rest of the evening, Sousa couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Peggy Carter was the most lively, vibrant drinker he had ever met. She laughed and told stories with the agents. She joked and swore with the bartender. At one point she even tried to hit somebody with a chair, but Sousa was quick to intervene. A brawl would only have ruined a perfectly lovely evening.

Sousa was dimly aware of Thompson drifting off into the background again. But it was only a vague thought in the back of his mind. The majority of his senses were consumed by Peggy. Peggy touching his arm. Peggy laughing at his jokes. Peggy smiling at him like he was the only person in the room.

It was after one particularly well-delivered line about a kettle that Sousa noticed something change in the air between them. Peggy didn’t laugh – a little rude, considering it was the best joke Sousa had made all night. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, examining him with a strange look on her face. “Are you alright, Peggy?” Sousa asked, concerned by this sudden turn of events. 

“I… I am,” she said. She cleared her throat and looked away for a moment, before turning back to him a little hesitantly. “I was just thinking – if the offer is still on the table – that I might like to get that drink with you sometime,” she said.

Sousa’s face broke out in a grin. “Saturday work for you?”

Peggy beamed at him. “I’ll clear my schedule.”

Thompson chose that moment to get abruptly to his feet. “I’m calling it a night, kids,” he said. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” He drained his glass and headed for the door, swaying slightly.

Sousa sighed. “I’m going to make sure he gets in a cab before he gets hit by one,” he said, standing and shooting Peggy an apologetic look.

She nodded. “Please do.”

Night had fallen while they were in the bar, and at some point a downpour had begun. Sousa was instantly drenched as he stepped outside. He peered through the night and the rain, only just able to make out the figure of Thompson moving a little unsteadily towards the street. Hurrying forward, Sousa placed a steadying hand on other man’s arm. Thompson started slightly and blinked at him in confusion. “What’re you doing?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be inside with your girlfriend?”

Sousa sighed. “Just making sure you get home safely, Jack.”

“I’ll be fine. The rain’s very sobering.”

“Maybe. But I’ll feel a lot better once you’re safely inside a taxi.”

Thompson didn’t reply. He was staring a Sousa again, that strange, intense look in his eyes, this time mixed with a touch of something desperate. And before Sousa knew what was happening, Thompson was grabbing him, pulling him forward into kiss. Sousa’s heart lurched in his chest as his senses were overwhelmed by the warmth of Thompson’s breath, the taste of whiskey on Thompson’s tongue, the scrape of Thompson’s stubble against his face. And then it was over. Thompson pulled back, clutching at Sousa’s jacket and fixing him with that same, desperate gaze. “Come home with me, Daniel,” he said. His voice was husky and pleading, and Sousa was overcome by a sudden urge to take Thompson in his arms and kiss him again.

Instead, he shook his head. “I can’t, Jack,” he whispered. “I can’t.”

Thompson took a step back, letting the fabric of Sousa’s jacket fall from his hands. “Goodnight, Sousa,” he said. He went to hail down a cab.

Sousa was left standing in the rain, his body numb, his mind consumed by thoughts of whiskey and lipstick.


	2. Chapter 2

“Daniel, what on earth is going on between you and Jack?” Peggy demanded.

Sousa glanced up at her with a bewildered expression from where he’d been busily kissing his way down her neck. “What?” he asked.

Peggy couldn’t help but think how endearing he looked right now, with his face flushed and his hair in disarray. But she pressed on determinedly. “You’ve been jumpy around him ever since that night at the bar. Did something happen between you two?”

“That’s what’s going through your mind right now? Jeez, I really need to work on my technique.”

“No no,” said Peggy, somewhat impatiently. “Your technique is fine. But it’s been bothering me.”

“Can it wait?”

“It’s waited for nearly two months now, Daniel. That’s all I can take.” 

With a sigh, Sousa rolled off of her. He stared up at the ceiling in silence for a moment, and Peggy waited as patiently as she could for him to get his thoughts in order. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “Something happened.” 

Peggy propped herself up on her elbow and pulled up the sheet to cover herself, in an attempt to retain as much decorum as possible when lying next to the man she’d been bedding for several weeks. “Won’t you tell me?” 

Sousa sighed. “Of course I will, if you want me to. Things have just been going so well between you and me, and I don’t wanna ruin it.”

Peggy slid closer and tucked an arm around him, snuggling into his warmth. “You’re not going to ruin anything, Daniel. The only reason it’s been bothering me so much is because I can tell it’s been bothering you, and I don’t like to see you troubled.”

Sousa smiled at her. “Anyone ever tell you you’re the sweetest lady on the planet?” 

“Oddly enough, ‘sweet’ and ‘lady’ are not words that are frequently used to describe me.”

“Well they should be.” He pulled her a little bit closer. Returning his gaze to the ceiling, he took a deep breath. “He kissed me,” he said.

The three words hung in the air for a moment. “He _what_?” Peggy said finally, her voice slightly strangled. “Right there outside the bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Good lord, _why_?”

“I didn’t exactly ask, Peggy. He seemed… desperate. For something. Companionship, maybe. He asked me to go home with him.” 

“Good _lord_ ,” Peggy repeated. They lay there in silence for a moment, Sousa staring at the ceiling, Peggy at the wall. There were strange feelings twisting around in her gut that she didn’t quite understand. “Daniel,” she said finally, one particular emotion resurfacing enough times that she was able to get a grasp on it, “did you kiss him back?” 

“What! No!” Sousa said. It was far too defensive for an innocent man. “Why would I? Why would you _think_ I would?”

Peggy glanced at him, noting the fact that he still had his gaze fixed determinedly on the ceiling, stubbornly refusing to meet her eye. “You said you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to ruin things. How could that story ruin anything between us, unless it somehow involved action on your part? I’m hardly going to think any differently of you for something you didn’t have any say in.”

“No, Peggy, I didn’t kiss him. I swear. I’d never do that to you.” As he said it, Sousa finally looked at her, and his eyes and his voice were so earnest that she knew with absolute certainty that he wasn’t lying. But she could see something lurking in his eyes, some guilty emotion he was trying to hide from himself as much as her. And it was in that emotion that she found the answers she was looking for. 

Peggy nodded. “I believe you,” she said. She kissed his cheek. Before she could quite pull away, he turned his head and caught her lips with his. In all their time together, he’d never quite kissed her the way he kissed her now. It was a kiss that said every loving word they’d shared, and all the ones they had yet to. She had only ever had one kiss like that before in her life.

By the time they broke apart, Peggy was more than a little overwhelmed. The way Sousa was looking at her didn’t help matters much. It was such a look that she knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth. “I love you,” he whispered. 

She smiled at him, the warm feeling in her heart chasing away the turmoil of emotions that had been swirling inside of her. “I love you too,” she said.

“I know it’s a little soon to be saying that, but – ”

“No,” Peggy said, shaking her head adamantly. “It’s never too soon to say it. Daniel, if there’s one thing the war taught me, it’s that if you don’t say it soon enough, you might never get the chance.” She pulled him into another kiss. 

~

It wasn’t long before the warm feelings of clarity were gone, leaving Peggy lying awake in the middle of the night. She watched Sousa sleep, trying to sort out what was going on in her head, and what might be going on in his. After several hours, she abandoned all hopes of sleeping that night and slipped out of bed to go get dressed. It was raining when she left the house, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. There was only one person in the world right now who might be able to help her make sense of things. 

Thompson opened his door far too quickly and far too fully clothed to have been asleep. He wasn’t wearing a tie and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, but he was otherwise impeccable. “You’re awake,” was all Peggy could think to say.

“And you seem intent on keeping me that way.”

“May I come in?” 

Thompson stared at her for a second, then stood aside so she could enter. From what Peggy could see from her first few steps into the house, his place was nice, if a little spartan. All of its furnishings looked like they had probably cost a lot of money, but there was little in the way of decoration, or anything that might make the house seem like a home. Other than the faint smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol that pervaded the place, the papers and the open bottle of scotch on the living room coffee table, and a few coats and hats hanging in the entryway, there was nothing to indicate that  an actual person lived here. She moved forward into the barren living room, peering around curiously.

“Does your boyfriend know you’re here?” Thompson asked from behind her.

Peggy turned to face him. “Daniel is the reason I’m here,” she said. 

“Not satisfying you?” Thompson leaned against the living room door frame, watching her intently, his expression guarded. 

“Do you love him, Jack? Or do you just want to sleep with him?”

His face clouded over. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

“You’re dripping on my carpet.”

“Jack.” 

Thompson sighed and ran a hand over his face, looking suddenly very tired. “I don’t love him,” he said. “I couldn’t care less about him. Maybe I just like stealing things I don’t deserve from the people who deserve them.”

“Bullshit.”

“Sweetheart, if you already know all the answers, why are you askin’ me the questions?”

Peggy let out a frustrated growl. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an exceedingly aggravating man, Thompson?” 

Thompson smirked, though the darkness still lingered in his eyes. “I think you might have mentioned it, once or twice. 

“I am tired, and I am wet, and I just want a straight answer. Please.” 

“I already gave you one. It just wasn’t the one you wanted to hear.” Thompson took a step towards her. “Why does it matter so much to you why I did it? The only thing that should matter is what he did. Which was nothing.” 

Peggy sighed and looked away. “We both know that’s not entirely true.”

“What do you mean?”

“He may not have kissed you, or gone home with you, but he damn well wanted to.” 

Thompson snorted. “Peggy, a blind man could see how much he loves you.”

“I know he loves me.” She turned her eyes back to the man in front of her. “But he loves you too, Jack.” 

Thompson’s carefully closed-off expression faltered, and for a moment Peggy saw something underneath that she’d seen in his eyes once before, on the plane ride home from Russia. Something scared and childlike and hurting. “He told you that?” he asked. 

“He didn’t have to. I could see it clear as day.” Peggy sighed and reached down to pick up the bottle of scotch. She took a few deep drinks, letting its warmth settle into her before she returned her attention to Thompson.

His face had closed off again. “Doesn’t really matter,” he said, shrugging. “He made his choice. I tried to change his mind once, and he still chose you. No point dwelling on it.” He took another few steps towards her and reached out to take the bottle from her hand. She relinquished it so he could take a bracing drink of his own. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she said.

“I know I’m right.” He glanced down at her waterlogged clothing. “You’re gonna wreck my carpet. It cost me a lot.”

Peggy looked down at the small wet patch she was making on the floor. “You’re right again. It’s poor manners, I apologize.” But she didn’t move to do anything about it. 

Thompson returned the scotch to the coffee table and moved forward so he was standing directly in front of Peggy. “We can at least get you out of this coat,” he said softly. When she still didn’t move, he reached out his hands to undo the top button. She continued to make no move to either help or hinder him, and he went on to the second button, taking another step forward as he did so. Peggy wasn’t quite sure why she didn’t stop him. She knew she should. It was hardly the most untoward thing he could be doing, but it wasn’t exactly something she should be encouraging either. But the strange feelings twisting in her stomach and the wet and the cold and the booze all mingled together until Peggy felt as though she and Thompson were frozen together in that moment, in a little bubble of time she wasn’t quite ready to burst just yet.

Thompson unbuttoned the last of her buttons and reached up to slide the coat off her shoulders and down her arms, his thumbs trailing lightly along her skin, leaving goose bumps that had nothing to do with the cold in their wake. He let the coat fall to the floor in a wet heap that was probably terrible for his carpet. His eyes were locked on Peggy’s, burning with something that she had no difficulty interpreting. “I’d try to steal you, too, if I thought I could,” he breathed. Peggy felt warm hands settle on her hips, drawing her forward.

“I almost wish you would,” she replied. Her lips were close enough to his that she could almost taste the scotch on his breath, and there was a moment – a brief moment – where she thought she might not stop herself. But the moment was fleeting. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back. “I need to go.”

He nodded. “I know,” he said quietly.

“I’m so sorry, Jack.” 

He gave her a small smile that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. “Last time you said that I ended up laid out in an alley. This time doesn’t feel a hell of a lot better.” 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. She picked her coat up off the floor, not bothering to pull it on before she left his house. It was still pouring outside. The rain chased the last of the liquor-warmth away, but it did nothing to quiet the hammering of Peggy’s heart and the turmoil in her gut.


	3. Chapter 3

Thompson was a success story. He’d had a list in his head since he came home from the war, a list of all the things he had to have in order to be someone that mattered. And he’d ticked just about every box. He was making a decent wage. He had a nice house, a nice car, nice clothes. And, most importantly, he had respect. People knew his name. He was going somewhere. He had never been farther away from the nightmare of nothingness that had haunted him since he returned from Japan. Yet as he watched Peggy and Sousa dance, he felt more insignificant than he had ever felt in all his life. The bar seemed impossibly dark, the crowds around him smothering and oppressive, and there was a cold thirst inside of him that even the burn of bourbon couldn’t quench.

They were beautiful, light and carefree as they were, swaying to the rhythm of the band and the rhythm of their love-struck hearts. Peggy’s eyes were dancing, her head thrown back with laughter. Sousa’s face was lit with the brightest smile Thompson had ever seen him wear. The pair of them were so vibrant and warm and bright in the dimness of the bar that it seemed impossible to Thompson that anything else around them could be of any importance at all.

“They’re a nice couple,” a voice said suddenly from beside him. Agent Marks had come to sit next to the stuff legends were made of. “Think they’ll get married?” 

Thompson nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the beautiful sight in front of him. “No doubt,” he said quietly. “One day.”

Marks said something else, but Thompson wasn’t listening. Of all the things in the world that didn’t matter in that moment, Marks was at the top of the list. After a few more failed attempts at conversation, the agent gave up and left Thompson alone in his reverie. It was a reverie that only came to an end when the song did, and Peggy and Sousa returned to the table, settling themselves on either side of him. “You seem thoughtful tonight,” said Peggy, smiling at him.

“Which is unusual,” said Sousa. “We were worried.” He slung an arm around Thompson’s shoulders, his eyes bright with liquor. “Anything in particular on your mind, oh brave and noble chief?”

“Careful, Sousa,” Thompson murmured, draining his glass. “Keep that up and you’ll be kissin’ me in the rain.”

Sousa’s arm remained stubbornly in place. “Everyone’s dancing, Jack,” he said. “You should dance.”

“Marks isn’t dancing.”

“Nobody wants to dance with Marks,” Peggy scoffed. She gave Thompson a gentle shove. “Everyone wants to dance with you.”

“Especially Marks,” Sousa added.

Thompson snorted. “Think I’ll pass.”

“Come on, chief,” Sousa insisted. “The night is beautiful, the liquor is flowing, and the music is good. What’s it gonna take to get you to dance?”

“The right partner,” Thompson replied with a shrug.

He felt Peggy stiffen beside him, and when he looked at her he found her staring at him with wide eyes, looking for all the world like she’d just seen a ghost. “Jack,” she said softly. “Dance with me.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. I’m sure you remember what happened the last time we got that close.” He nodded his head towards Sousa. “Hope you told your boyfriend about that.” Before either of them could respond, Thompson got to his feet. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I’ve got places to be.” And with that, he dropped his hat onto his head and left the bar.

~

The night continued as it had started, in a haze of liquor and shadow. Thompson had turned on the lights when he got home, but all it had done was expose every inch of his picturesque, empty house, and bring back memories of the way Peggy had looked in it, standing dripping on his living room floor and somehow making the place seem more like a home than it ever had before. He’d turned the lights off again almost as soon as they were on.

And so it was that he found himself sitting in almost complete darkness, a bottle of scotch in his hand and a heaviness in his heart, staring out the window at New York City and wondering if the lights would ever dazzle him like they were supposed to. 

It was around three in the morning when Thompson’s doorbell rang. He ignored it, but when it sounded again he put the bottle down with a sigh and went to answer the door. “Hey, Jack,” Sousa greeted him.

“May we come in?” Peggy asked.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Too busy drinking alone?” Sousa threw the question out in his usual wry way, but there was an undercurrent of concern in his tone that set Thompson’s teeth on edge.

“Something like that.”

Peggy gave an impatient sigh. “Thompson, we can talk now or we can talk later, but we can’t keep dancing around like this forever.”

“Jeez, you’re real hung up on dancin’ with me.”

Peggy shook her head at him and pushed past him into the house, Sousa following in her wake. Thompson sighed and closed the door behind them. “Honestly, were you actually just sitting here drinking in the dark?” came Peggy’s voice. A light switched on in the living room. Thompson wandered after his unwelcome guests to see them looking around the elegant room, taking in the array of empty bottles that served as its only decoration.

“Jeez,” said Sousa.

Thompson took up his spot leaning against the doorframe. “Can I help you two?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Daniel and I have been talking,” said Peggy. There was a hesitance to her words that Thompson wasn’t used to, and he found it extremely disquieting.

“Glad to hear it.”

“About you.” 

“I’m flattered.” 

Sousa sighed. “Jack, you’re not fooling anyone with that damn bravado. Just _talk_ to us.”

Thompson shot him a look. “How about you get the hell outta my house instead?”

“No,” Sousa replied simply, squarely meeting his gaze. “Not until we talk.”

“Then you can do the talking. ‘Cause from where I’m standin’, we really have nothing to talk about.”

“By all means then, let’s not talk,” Peggy snapped, frustration blazing in her eyes. 

“I’ll show you to the door,” Thompson informed her. 

“I’d rather you show us to the bedroom,” she replied evenly. 

Thompson raised his eyebrows at her. “And what are we gonna do in the bedroom?”

“What do you think we’re gonna do, Jack?” Sousa asked. “Bake a cake?”

“Seems better than the alternative. You really think we’re just gonna fuck and everything will be sunshine and roses?”

Sousa shrugged. “Might as well give it a go.”

Thompson shook his head. “No way in hell, Danny. I’m not – ” 

Before he could tell them what it was he wasn’t going to do, Sousa had closed the distance between them and wrapped an arm around Thompson’s waist, roughly pulling him forward into a kiss. It was a kiss like whiskey, flooding Thompson with a dizzying rush of warmth. He closed his eyes and sank into it, his arms slowly uncrossing and finding their way around Sousa’s body, tugging him closer. 

It was over too soon. Sousa broke the kiss and stepped back, leaving Thompson cold again. And then Peggy was there beside him, leaning up and pressing a fierce kiss to his mouth, a kiss that spoke all the words that had been left unsaid between them. She pulled away, wrapping her hands around his suspenders and giving a gentle tug. “Come to bed, Jack,” she said softly. 

Thompson wasn’t sure he could have refused even if he’d wanted to.

~

A lazy curl of smoke drifted towards the ceiling, fleeing the depraved scene below it. Thompson watched it go, bringing the cigarette back to his lips to take another drag. A body pressed in on either side of him, their limbs tangled in his own, and he was too warm.

Sousa was the first to speak. “We should make a habit of this,” he said.

Thompson turned his head to look at him, blowing out a slow puff of smoke that made the other man cough. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He shook off the snug wrapping of arms and legs that had him fenced in and climbed out of bed.

Sousa sighed. “Jack, where are you going?”

“If you two are done with me, I’ve got places to be.” He reached down to pick his discarded shirt up off the floor.

“Don’t leave,” Sousa said softly.

“You’re right, it’s you two who should be leavin’.”

“We’re not,” said Peggy suddenly. “Jack, we’re not done with you. We don’t plan on being done with you anytime soon. This isn’t what we came for, and this isn’t all we wanted from you.”

“Yeah, well I don’t really have a hell of a lot to offer that you two don’t already have together. Hard to compete with the perfect romance.”

“It’s not perfect, Jack,” said Sousa. “It’s not perfect, and it’s not gonna be perfect. It can’t be. Not without you.”

Thompson snorted. “Three’s a crowd, Danny Boy.”

“We can make it work,” Peggy said quietly.

“No. We can’t. And even if we could, doesn’t mean we should. Bad enough me sleeping with Sousa here, worse if it gets out I’m runnin’ around with you both.”

Peggy shook her head. “You need to stop caring what people think of you, Jack. A life lived for the good opinions of others will bring you nothing but regret.” 

“I’m happy as a clam.”

“You’re not. None of us are. We’re all miserable. Please, just stay and _talk_ with us. For heaven’s sake, just this once don’t be such a stubborn ass.”

“If you can manage that,” Sousa muttered. He flipped the covers back and held his hand out. “Just get in the damn bed, Thompson. And put that shirt down. You’re not gonna be needing it.”

Thompson hesitated. No part of him believed that this could ever work. But there was a tiny part – tiny, but slowly growing – that dared to hope. In the end, it was that small part that won out, unable to resist the warm arms that waited to take him back into their embrace. He got in the damn bed.

Peggy and Sousa shifted so that he was tucked firmly back between them. “There,” said Peggy, running gentle fingers through his hair. “That wasn’t so hard now was it, you stubborn ass.”

Sousa leaned in and kissed his neck. “I love you, Jack,” he whispered, and Thompson’s chest tightened with a sudden longing.

“As do I,” said Peggy, holding him a little bit tighter. “That’s what we want from you, darling. Just… you.” 

“Not really how dating is supposed to work, Peg,” said Thompson. But he let himself be drawn closer into her embrace.

“These rules you seem so hell-bent on conforming to also say I should spend my days at home in my husband’s kitchen,” Peggy informed him. “I know that neither of us want that for me; why should you demand any less for yourself?” 

Thompson took another pull from his cigarette and blew out the smoke in a sigh. “Some rules exist for a reason,” he said. “This thing would never work.” His voice came out far sadder than he’d intended it to. 

“Potential for failure has never been, and never will be, any kind of excuse to not bloody well try.” 

“Jack, we all owe it to ourselves to at least give this a shot,” said Sousa. “Unless you’d rather we just continue to stare at each other with longing and anguish for the rest of our lives.”

“We’d get over it,” said Thompson. 

“Maybe. Better if we didn’t have to, though.” Sousa pulled the cigarette out of Thompson’s mouth so he could kiss him gently. “This thing already hurts like hell,” he said. “Even if we only last a day, at least that’s one day out of the inferno.” He stuck the cigarette in his own mouth and propped himself up on one arm, looking down at Thompson imploringly. He looked so utterly charming, with his hair in disarray and that sappy look on his face and the stolen cigarette poking out of his mouth, that the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corner of Thompson’s mouth.

“Was that _happiness_ , Chief Thompson?” Peggy asked. “I wasn’t sure you were capable of expressing such emotions, the way you’ve been brooding about this past while.” Thompson glanced over at her. Her hair was as much a mess as Sousa’s, and her lipstick was smudged to hell, but her eyes were shining with such hopeful delight and warm affection that Thompson was sure she’d never been more beautiful than in that moment. 

He looked back and forth between the two, unable to stop the creeping warmth that was making its way into his heart. After a moment, he let out a sigh and wrapped his arms around his bedmates so he could draw them closer. “Aw what the hell,” he muttered. “Let’s have our day.” The fierce kisses he received in reply were enough to knock the last of the doubt out of his mind, at least for now.

~

They lay there for some time after the kissing had subsided, basking in each other’s company, nobody wanting to speak for fear of ruining the moment. Once again, it was Sousa who broke the silence first. “You’re wasting no time collecting on your chiefly perks,” he said. “Only a few months in and you’re already sleeping with your employees.” He nudged Jack with his elbow. “I expect a pay raise out of this, you know.”

Thompson reached over and snatched his cigarette back. “Knew there was a reason you wanted me so bad.”

“You guessed it. And you obviously want me for my body. I still haven’t figured out why Peggy loves us though.”

Thompson shrugged. “Guess it makes sense. No one man could replace Captain America, but with my looks and your pure and noble heart we might come close.”

Sousa shot him an affronted look. “I am very good looking, thank you very much,” he informed him.

“Yeah, you are,” Thompson admitted, ruffling his hair.

“You are both very handsome, and very noble,” Peggy assured them, with only a slight roll of her eyes. “But I’m not trying to replace Steve. I could be dating fifty men and they still wouldn’t compare to him. I don’t want to replace him, and I never could.” She snuggled closer to Thompson’s side, her fingers tightening slightly around Sousa’s hand. “But I don’t want another Steve.” She smiled at them both, her eyes dancing. “I just want some Jack Daniel’s.”

Sousa groaned loudly and Thompson tried to push her out of the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

One thing that Sousa had been absolutely sure of, the first night after he’d been fixed with his prosthetic, was that he would never dance again. His movements had been laboured and awkward, and he’d been sure that he’d never again have the grace and the easiness on his feet that were required for dancing.

He’d been right about that part. His movements were still laboured and awkward, and the necessity of the crutch made grace next to impossible. But on the matter of dancing he’d never been more wrong. 

As he and Peggy spun around the living room now, caught up in a giddy swirl of booze and brass, Sousa didn’t know how he had ever thought he couldn’t dance. There was still nothing graceful in his movements. He tripped as much as he skipped, and Peggy had to carry most of his weight. Yet dancing had never seemed easier. With Peggy to hold him up, he almost felt he could fly. 

“It’s impossible to get any work done with you two makin’ all that noise,” Thompson complained. He was sprawled on the couch, papers spread across the table in front of him and a glass of bourbon in his hand. 

“You’ve done enough work for one night,” Sousa informed him. “Come on, Jack, get your ass off that couch before it grows roots and come dance with us.”

Thompson sighed. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of paperwork I’ve got as chief,” he said, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know how Dooley did it.”

“I well believe the amount of paperwork you have, dear,” Peggy informed him, lifting Sousa’s arm so she could spin herself. “We’ve been hearing about it non-stop. But that’s hardly a reason for you not to join us.”

“Just ‘cause Dooley didn’t have time for dancing, doesn’t mean you can’t,” Sousa said, laughing as Peggy twirled into him and almost sent the pair of them tumbling to the ground. “And I could use the extra support.”

“You work too hard, Jack,” said Peggy, catching Sousa and pulling him upright again.

“I want to be as good as he was,” Thompson said, downing the whiskey in his glass. “Dooley was the best chief the SSR ever could’ve had. Those are some big shoes to fill.” 

“It’s a good thing you have some mighty big feet then, soldier,” said Peggy. She held out her hand to him. “You’re doing a splendid job. But you’ll hardly be able to keep it up if you run yourself into the ground.”

“I gotta finish this report.” 

“It’s just a dance, Jack,” said Sousa. “The report can wait for a dance.”

“You’ve been dating us for several months now, Chief Thompson,” said Peggy. “And you haven’t once given us a dance. That is simply unacceptable.” She impatiently waved the hand she was still holding out to him. “Get over here this instant.” 

Thompson hesitated for a moment longer, then shook his head at the pair of them, not quite managing to hide the smile that crept onto his face. “Fine,” he said. He pushed himself up off the couch and moved around the table towards them. 

Peggy and Sousa cheered. “An admirable decision, chief,” Sousa said, reaching out and grabbing Thompson’s tie so he could tug him closer. “One of the best you’ve made.”

“I’m beginnin’ to regret the decision I made about datin’ the two of you,” Thompson said, letting the pair of them pull him into their arms. 

“Please,” Peggy scoffed. “It was never a choice. We’re irresistible.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Thompson said. He grabbed the two of them suddenly and twirled them around, almost sending them falling backwards into the table.

Peggy threw her head back with laughter, and the smile Thompson gave her in response lit up his entire face. Sousa was suddenly struck with how happy he was – how happy these two idiots he’d decided to spend the rest of his life with made him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever laughed harder than he did in that moment, awkwardly spinning and stumbling around the room them, and he was absolutely certain he had never danced better. 

The music slowed, and so did their dance, until they were doing little more than holding each other and swaying in time to the gentle rhythm. Sousa took the opportunity to pull Peggy and Thompson into deep kisses, reveling in the heat of their breath and the warmth of their bodies. And though the blustering wind outside swept a chill around the city, the three people dancing in that living room had never felt warmer, feeling nothing but the arms around them, seeing nothing but each other, and tasting nothing on their tongues but whiskey and lipstick.

**Author's Note:**

> written for the tumblr prompt: Peggy or Sousa (or both) going out for drink with Thompson to celebrate him making chief


End file.
